Lost Creek Hollow Took a Journey to the Unknown

The irishman hadn't been a part of the pack for very long, but it didn't take him any time at all to remember the familiar paths of the hollow, nor did he take any time to adjust as he got to work. When Riordan had been here before he had been a petulant young man, eager to charm and not so interested in being responsible. He had been a hunter, relishing in the attention it got him from the various women of the pack — but time had changed him. The experience that being in Toraigh and learning the ways of his own people had cultivated a certain level of appreciation for the grunt work; this is what he decided to dedicate the day to, and this sense of responsibility carried with him as he moved to patrol the claim's fringe.

The hollow was home to quite a family - and Riordan came to realize this as he passed by various strangers, coming upon one edge of the territory with a thin smile upon his face. As he passed these strangers he'd grin or lift his nose (a head-bob to say hello), and pass them by; before long, he was hard at work perusing the territory limits. From time to time the ginger would pause over a patch of particularly strong scent-marking and roll in it, until his broad shoulders were anointed with more scents of the pack. If he was going to guard their claim he may as well smell like he belonged.

It was during one of these graceless rolls that he noticed the sound of pawsteps; Riordan stopped his rolling about (at the time, situated on his back in a rather compromising position) and with a grunt he rolled to his side, then to his belly, like a sphynx. Bits of leaf-litter clung to his pelt, and he'd made quite a mess of the snow along this particular patch of the woods, but that didn't matter to him. He hoisted himself to his feet and turned in time to see a sharp-faced wolf creeping along; when she stopped and howled, he realized it was more likely a visitor after all.

Riordan didn't want to make a bad impression if this was a member of the pack he hadn't met yet, but at the same time he was naturally defensive of his home - wherever that happened to be - and the stranger's presence made him more alert. Before he could stop himself, he was roaming closer.

He called out with a deep-chested call that briefly boomed through the trees, on an interception course. Aye lass, where'ya headin'? If this was a member of the hollow then, no harm no foul. If it wasn't - his presence should be enough to dissuade any wrongdoing, he thinks.